


To Numb the Pain

by a_secondhand_sorrow



Category: Dear Evan Hansen - Pasek & Paul/Levenson
Genre: Alcoholism, BandTrees, Disassociation, F/M, I can only write Zoe Murphy character studies, Originally Posted on Tumblr, Suicide, Suicide mention, they were in love okay, this isn’t too bad but please don’t trigger yourself
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-02-20
Updated: 2019-02-20
Packaged: 2019-11-01 10:53:11
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,249
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17865899
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/a_secondhand_sorrow/pseuds/a_secondhand_sorrow
Summary: Disassociation came naturally to Zoe Murphy.When she started to care, she told herself, she’d lose her mind. She’d go crazy, like her mother, or shut down, like her father. Or worse, go off the deep end like Connor.That numbed the pain, a little bit.Deep down, she knew they were bound to crash, and her walls would be forced down, and years of unwanted and acknowledged pain would come flooding in.But that was someday, not now.***(or: Zoe could only disappear)





	To Numb the Pain

**Author's Note:**

> this was originally posted on my tumblr account @itstrulyastrangerthing
> 
> please scream with me about Zoe Murphy

Disassociation came naturally to Zoe Murphy.

Sure, Connor had his coping methods. Growing up in their stressy, unnatural family had forced the Murphy siblings to find some escape.

Connor turned to drugs. Zoe forced herself not to care. When she started to care, she told herself, she’d lose her mind. She’d go crazy, like her mother, or shut down, like her father. Or worse, go off the deep end like Connor.

Apathy was easiest.

So she shut herself off to Connor’s downward spiral that could only end in pain. She ignored her mother’s desperate attempts to make them a normal family. She pretended she didn’t notice the stench of alchohol on her father’s breath and the bottles that emptied day after day.

That numbed the pain, a little bit.

Deep down, she knew they were bound to crash, and her walls would be forced down, and years of unwanted and acknowledged pain would come flooding in.

But that was someday, not now.

***

Zoe Murphy never cried when she was angry.

Years of arguments with Connor had forced her to control her every move. She could deliver any line, any blow, coolly and devastating, her face a mask, words and shouts deflecting off of her skin. The taunts and jeers did stick, however, though you’d never be able to tell. They sunk in, embedding in her brain, becoming a chorus of words rattling in her skull.

She didn’t acknowledge it. She didn’t let it phase her.

Even when the words made a lump stick in her throat, or tears prick her eyes, she forced them down. Deflected the course of action with a spat insult, or a screamed distraction.

Zoe wouldn’t let herself care enough to cry, because that would mean she opened herself up to the suffering of her family. If she cried, it meant she cared about _them_.

***

When the cops found Connor, she didn’t want to cry.

She didn’t want to.

Her mother, of course, burst into tears, throwing her arms around Zoe’s neck. Her father only clenched his jaw and looked down, a vein working on is forehead, hiding whatever tears were present, probably already thinking about the bottle of whiskey stashed in the drawer of his desk in his home office.

When, three days later, Evan Hansen showed up at the house, fidgeting and quiet and apparently expected, she didn’t want to care about it.

But something about Evan’s arrival made her press.

Why were they friends, if Connor pushed Evan at school the day he killed himself? Why was Evan the only one to see the brother Zoe once had when he slipped into a cycle of drugs and abuse and isolation?

Her façade remained for the entirety of dinner, while her mother cried and father was there without being there, not really, and Evan’s words sunk into her ears and forced their way into her brain.

In her room, she couldn’t distract the memories swirling in her brain of a brother who hugged her instead of trying to punch her, told her he loved her instead of trying to kill her, who brought light and humor instead of anxiety and pain.

She didn’t cry for the Connor who died by his own hand, too cowardly to talk to his own sister, who apparently had held his life in the balance and fumbled it. She cried for the Connor who had died six years before when the bright eyed boy was filled with demons that wouldn’t cease. Filled with grief for the two ghosts now by her side, she only mourned the Connor that Evan brought back that day.

 _And_ _so_ _did_ _he._

***

Zoe Murphy found herself caring , for the first time in too long, because of Evan Hansen.

Because Connor had cared. Connor had cared, and so she could try to care, too.

As the news of Evan’s speech sent shockwaves around the Internet, Zoe watched the impact. She let the words play around in her head, knocking and bumping and thoroughly making her care.

Connor had cared. Evan cares.

For once, she didn’t need to remove herself.

So she kissed Evan, wanting to be fully present, because for once another’s presence didn’t make her want to shrink away or pretend. He was the only one she let herself be fully present, fully real with.

And they became Zoe and Evan.

She was his and he was hers with every joke and laugh and kiss. They were them in every hug and tear and smile. And when he had an anxiety attack, which was never as often as before, she knew when to press him and when to give him space and how to best de-escalate the situation. And when she needed someone to listen to her rant or cry about nothing with or talk about her problems with, he was there and listening. And when they were together, he was present, and she was present, and _they_ were present and they were Zoe and Evan and it was strange but it was beautiful and it just felt right, somehow, even though he was anxious and cared too much and she was bold and cared too little, because they were fighting the past and the future and the present together, and they knew that all they needed was the other at their side.

***

They _were_ Zoe and Evan.

They _were_ Zoe and Evan.

They _were_ Zoe and Evan.

Disassociation came naturally to Zoe Murphy, but as Evan Hansen stood in front of their dining room table, crying and spouting out words that only half registered in her mind, still reeling over the things she had just read about strangers inviting the internet to abuse her openly like Connor had already done, she couldn’t bring herself to stop being present, because they were Zoe and Evan and she could always care when they were Zoe and Evan, right? She could open up and be present and vulnerable and open to her pain and take on the world because they were Zoe and Evan, two halves of a whole, utterly present and real and the only place she was truly Zoe and he was truly Evan-

And then tears were pricking her eyes, and everything Evan had told them was a lie, none of it was true, it was all built on lies, Zoe and Evan was a lie-

Because with Zoe and Evan she was in the moment, and alive, and happy, but how can you be happy when you aren’t really there? _How_ , Evan? How could they be whole if one half wasn’t supporting the other? How could he feel that same security and love she had when he wasn’t there, not really? Not in the way he’s supposed to have been.

And then she can’t take it, because the security of Zoe and Evan is gone, and her years of holding it all back are rushing in, and it’s not just Evan that’s making tears flood her eyes. And she was rushing away because if she doesn’t, she might just stay rooted in that feeling of despair forever, Evan’s watery, beautiful eyes drilling into hers, landing blow after blow to her heart.

Zoe Murphy never cried when she was angry, because she wouldn’t allow herself to care about anything. But the memory of the first _I love you_  filled her brain halfway up the stairs to her room and stopped her dead in her tracks, a sob escaping her body as she finally gave in and turned to sit on a stair, her socked feet one stair below hers, knees drawn to her chest. It had slipped out of his mouth only two days before, after the disaster known as the dinner with Evan’s mom and her parents, and he was so sweet and nervous but less than fourty-eight hours later it’s all- and she had said it back-

Nestled somewhere in the back of her mind, Zoe realized that wasn’t the first time. Not really the first time, for him anyway. Because when he told her all that stuff Connor knew- he- that was him saying it. Not passing along a message from her brother. Sending his own.

“And so, y’know, I think he had a lot of trouble saying that he- that he, um… that he uh, loved you guys. Especially- especially when it was you? He didn’t know, er, didn’t know how to say ‘I love you’ since you two were, um, you were a-a million worlds apart, you know? He didn’t know where to start.”

And then he had kissed her.

Was that the start of everything? Was that when she began to pull herself back into the present? Was that when she began to feel her heart beat faster when he came over, ignoring the way her stomach flipped?

Was that when she began wanting to feel again?

***

Zoe Murphy never cried when she was angry, or frustrated, or sad, and never in front of anyone else. But, when she saw him avoiding her gaze at school the next day as he hurried out of the cafeteria, head hung, she decided to follow him.  
Her quick footsteps echoed in the hallway as she stepped into it, trailing a few steps behind Evan. Her eyes boring a hole in the back of his head, she could see his shoulders tense.

That was how they had been. They could feel each other’s presence, so comfortable with each other that it felt natural to feel the other one come up behind them.

As Evan slowly turned around to face her, Zoe felt pressure building in her eyes, her throat constricting. The part of her brain that had allowed for her to detach herself from any situation had been out of use for too long and refused to let her stop caring, to force the tears down.

It was harder to look into his eyes than she thought. There was his side and her side, snapping together in that second, sharing more than either would like to admit to in that moment.

Because even though she felt a pang of regret and anger and hurt in her gut as their eyes met, she also knew for certain in that moment that she loved him.

And she knew that he loved her, too.

But she could also tell, in his gaze, that there was something broken in there. Broken by his own mistakes, almost not wanting to see her because it felt so right but now it was wrong-

She wasn’t even sure if she’d be able to do this, whatever this was.

Zoe Murphy never cried when she was angry. Her mask was a perfectly sculpted picture of anger, her face sharp, her words sharper. That was because she didn’t care-couldn’t care.

Now, standing in the stock still hallway, too-bright fluorescent lights shining down on the previously known Zoe and Evan, Zoe Murphy realized that when it came to Evan Hansen, she knew that she would always care, care too much, even, no matter how little she wanted to.

That kind of caring required honesty, and even though he didn’t give it to her, Zoe gave Evan the truth.

And so she told him everything.

She told him how Connor had really been, how he was once the boy he had conjured up in his stories and writings but ultimately was abusive and destructive to her and her family. She told him how she began to cope with her life, forcing herself to numb the truth and be removed entirely. She told him how she never wanted to let down her walls, but he forced them down, made her begin to care and feel and be alive.

She told him how she had cried when he brought Connor back to her, because for the first time in so long, she felt like her life wasn’t falling to pieces and something old was new again. She told him how she had felt broken inside, and how he had fixed that, but now she didn’t know whether or not she was broken again.

Even though Zoe Murphy never cried when she was angry, tears welled in her eyes and spilled over and her voice cracked and shook and wavered all over the place as her breathing quickened and palms shook. But she continued anyway, even when her words became choked with sobs and she could barely see, but they never broke eye contact and she could tell he was crying, too, and it hurt her that she made him cry but this was his fault, not hers.

As she finished, sobs and tears slowing, they looked at each other, two broken people, once two halves of a whole, now two sides of the same coin. And even though it hurt, when they looked into each other’s eyes, they knew that it would be okay, someday.

Not today. Not tomorrow. But if the other could still stand after the torrent of tears, so could they.  
The bell rang, jolting them out of their trance.

Tears still drying on her face, Zoe Murphy turned and walked away from Evan Hansen, because even though she knew someday it would be okay, it sure didn’t feel that way then, when her heart twisted every time she could feel his eyes on her.

Someday it would be okay.

She only hoped that wasn’t another one of his lies.

***

Disassociation had come naturally to Zoe Murphy. It didn’t anymore.

**Author's Note:**

> Anyway yeah, I’m crying a little. Catch me at @itstrulyastrangerthing for various bs and @a-secondhand-sorrow for more writing! comment and kudos or smth idk how this works


End file.
